In that regard, I must tell you that if San-Ragoz came into this region, he may well have suffered the same fate as my men appear to have done. I can see no good reason to continue the pursuit of the fugitive slave; if seventeen men can disappear without any sign, what must be the portion of a single unarmed man going on foot into this wild place?
This is being carried to you, Timuz ibn Musa ibn Maliq, by my most able second captain, Mainum ibn Kahlut ibn Akil, who will carry your reply to me as swiftly as his horses can bear him, if it is Allah’s Will.
Three days after the new moon, from Usca,
Karif ibn Azim ibn Salah
“Look how many cups are offered,” Aulutiz said exultantly. “There must be ten more than yesterday.” He strode from one cup to the next, counting them off for the tribe that stood around Chimenae’s stone house; his pride was obvious and he made no apology for the gratification he felt at this show of devotion. “This is better than when they brought us all their dogs as sacrifices.”
Achona approached him, her smile fixed as if by rigor. “You have every reason to be honored; all of us are under obligation to you,” she said before she gave her whole attention to Chimenae. “He has done more than anyone else for this clan.”
“He has done what I ordered him to do,” said Chimenae, unimpressed by Achona’s enthusiasm. ”He very nearly exceeded his mission, which none of you would have liked. If he had not had you and the others, three of the soldiers would have escaped, and then we would not have offerings but enemies to deal with. Fortunately, you arrived in good time, and you with your five companions saved my son from calamity. You are due as much a debt as he is.” She approached her son, staring hard at Achona. “You do us no good, treating him as if he had no fault to correct.”
“And what fault would that be?” Achona asked as she boldly put her hand on Aulutiz’s arm while she met Chimenae’s steady gaze.
“The sin of vanity,” said Chimenae. “The Christian monks are correct in saying that it is a very great fault, because it blinds you to all others, and keeps you from learning. Be ware of your vanity, that it does not lead you to recklessness.” She removed Achona’s hand from her son’s arm. “You did very well, but a good portion of that was luck. You cannot rely upon it.”
From his place at the edge of the loosely defined circle, San-Ragoz could sense the discomfiture that was developing in the group, stronger than the night before, and more pervasive, for now it was apparent to him that the vampires were taking sides, and that it would not be long before loyalties were tested. He stared up at the stars emerging on the dark canopy of night, and wished he could leave without arousing suspicion in the tribe, escalating the tensions that roiled among them.
“All right,” said Aulutiz. “I agree we were lucky. But we made the most of our luck; you cannot say we did not.” He took Achona’s hand in his. “Without her arrival, a few of the Moors would have got away from us. But she saw to it they did not.”
“Most commendable,” said Chimenae drily. “You have done what was expected of you, and you had the pick of the Moors for your efforts. You and those with you drank before any of the rest did.”
“As you promised we would,” said Achona.
“You seem astonished that I kept my promise.” Chimena smiled at her son. “Yet I cannot deny it: you have shown your worth again, Aulutiz. I am grateful to you for all you have done. The clan should be as grateful as I.”
Aulutiz grinned at this praise. “My companions are worthy, too,” he said, with a quick glance at Achona. “It is a pity that two of our blows killed Moors outright, for it was a shame to waste such bounty, but in the excitement, it was not surprising that one or two of us should strike too hard.” He ducked his head, as if acknowledging this error would spare him the recriminations of the others.
“It could not be helped, from what Edic says. The Moors were attempting to flee and only a sharp blow would be enough to stop them.” Chimenae directed her nod at Edic. “You chose well in the Moor you brought to me. A fine, strong man, not so injured that he is wholly senseless. He is worthy to nourish me, to die for me. There is passion in him, to match his blood. He will last another night before he is drained, if I drink again tonight. Perhaps I will wait a night—let him enjoy another day.” She indicated her stone house. “If he were not a Moor, I would be tempted to bring him to our number. He is the sort of man who would be a credit to our clan.” She heard the quick muttering from those standing near her and shook her head. “Do not be shocked. And do not pretend it did not occur to you as well. You all had Moorish blood to drink, and relished it. To number one of them with us could provide us with information and other advantages. Surely you can see it would.” She forestalled any objections from her tribe by executing a graceful turn and a light caress to Edic’s arm; her brows arched roguishly, and she looked back at San-Ragoz with playful intention. “Do you not agree, Sanct’ Germain?”
“I have nothing to say that would move you, one way or the other,” said San-Ragoz, his expression unreadable.
But Chimenae was not daunted. “You could have a taste of him, and then you would know,” she offered.
“Thank you; no,” he replied, hating the sudden pang of need that shot through him.
“You would rather creep into the bed of a sleeping woman, and take no more than what fills a small cup, while wooing her with pretty dreams: that is what you do, isn’t it?” Her contempt gave a venom to her courtesy that held the gathered vampires fascinated. “Well? Would you not prefer that to what I do?”
“If I had such an opportunity, if such a woman were accessible, yes, I would,” San-Ragoz said without raising his voice; his expression was stern but without anger.
Chimenae laughed her scorn. “You hold yourself above us because you are not willing to hunt down your prey as we do. You have no appetite for the chase.”
“Do you call your two-legged goats prey?” San-Ragoz inquired gently. “I would not hunt men as you do, but then, as you say, I am not like you.”
“The two-legged goats are not the same at all. Everyone understands that. They are our tribute, for the game-prey we share with the villagers,” Chimenae said, her temper flaring. She came up to him, her fury making her eyes shine. “The villagers love us. They know they are cared for. They have nothing to fear from marauders or bandits. We have rid the valleys and mountains of such vermin, and they show their appreciation with two-legged goats. Occasionally I honor their gift by making the goat a vampire. That is how most of my clan came into being. You cannot claim your way is better.” She poked at San-Ragoz’s chest. “You are too much a coward to accept such homage.”
“It must seem so to you,” said San-Ragoz, unwilling to be dragged into another fruitless wrangle.
“It
is
so,” Chimenae insisted. ”Let the living do what they will to change the day: come twilight the world will always belong to vampires.”
San-Ragoz said nothing; he was caught up in memories of Nicoris, and how very different her response had been when she came to his life—she had been prepared for the change, and yet she could not bear it: Chimenae, who had changed with no readiness for the vampiric life had accommodated its demands with lamentable success in her own view, and in a manner that chilled San-Ragoz to the marrow. He became aware that Aulutiz had spoken to him and blinked. “Your pardon, Aulutiz. My thoughts were otherwhere.”
“I asked if you have your own clan? My mother says nothing of it.” He gave a swift, defiant stare at Chimenae.
“A clan?” San-Ragoz shook his head. “No. Those of my blood are few, and scattered over the world—except for what your mother has done.”
“How can you know?” Aulutiz asked, and took Achona’s hand as he waited for an answer. “Some of the others might also have made clans of their own, as she has.”
San-Ragoz fixed Aulutiz with his enigmatic gaze. “I know.”
“What else would he tell you?” Chimenae demanded, stepping between her son and San-Ragoz. “He did not know about you.”
“No, I did not,” San-Ragoz conceded. “But we have not shared blood, you and I: you have kept yourself to yourself.”
“And that is the reason you did not know about my clan?” Chimenae was incredulous. “How can you make such a claim?” She rounded on Aulutiz. “He lies.”
Before Aulutiz could speak, San-Ragoz interjected, “How can she know?” He let the question hang as he took a step back, noticing as he did that Edic was watching him carefully.
“I can know because I know how I have had to make my way in the world. You cannot expect me to believe that it is different for any of the others, wherever they may live.” Chimenae pointed at him. “You have lied and lied and lied. We should take your head and leave you as carrion for the kites and vultures.”
“And if I have not lied, what then?” San-Ragoz asked, not responding to her threat.
She lifted her chin. “You lie.” With that, she turned her back on him and deliberately walked away from him. “No vampire can survive without a clan and a leader. Left alone, a vampire is helpless. Everyone knows that.”
“Because you have told them so?” San-Ragoz suggested gently.
Not understanding his intent, Chimenae said, “Why else—
how
else should they know it?” She looked back at her tribe and nodded emphatically.
A few of those gathered gave a ragged half-cheer; Aulutiz did not join in.
Finally Edic spoke up. “There are more Moors. In the mountains. At least one more company of them.” As the tribe rounded on him as one, he said, “I have been searching for others, thinking that the group we attacked might not be alone in this region.”
“What made you think to look for them?” asked Aulutiz, watching Edic closely.
“My years as a solider,” was Edic’s blunt answer. “When I led men into battle, I did not put all my men into the field at once, unless the enemy had done the same. These Moors were searching the mountains, not preparing to fight. Therefore I have assumed there must be other small companies in this region.”
“And have you found any?” Chimenae’s voice was sharp.
“I found traces to the south of Mont Calcius, Chimenae,” said Edic. “They made camp there no more than two nights ago.”
Suddenly Chimenae took hold of his short dalmatica at the center of his chest. “And why did you say nothing until now?”
Edic seemed shaken by her change of demeanor. “I . . . I did not know how to tell you.”
Her grip tightened. “Why should I believe you? Have any of the clan—other than you—noticed the Moors you speak of?”
“I do not know,” Edic admitted.
Chimenae released him. “Well?” She regarded the whole group gathered around her. “Have any of you seen Moors? Or heard about them?”
After a short silence, Wembo spoke up. “I have seen Moors on the old monastery road.” He giggled; the road was little more than a goat-track. “A dozen of them, perhaps more.”
“And when was this?” Chimenae was keeping her fury in check with difficulty.
“It was just after sunset last night.” He pointed to Dorioz. “He saw them, too.”
Dorioz held up his hands. “I saw them, but I saw they were going toward the high pass. I thought they were looking for a crossing into Toloz.” He glared at Wembo.
“You saw them,” said Chimenae in a dangerous tone, “and you did not tell me?”
“They were going out of our region,” he said with a shrug. “Who knows, by now they may be at the monastery.”
“We owe nothing to the monks,” said Aulutiz hotly. “They leave no cups for us.”
“And if they did, what then? They would give no two-legged goats to us, and the cup of blood is nothing more than a sign of respect.” Edic held out his hand. ”The monks have much to do to survive now that the remaining Christians no longer send them food and wine.”
“Forget the monks,” Chimenae ordered abruptly. “Edic is right. They are of no interest to us. The Moors are what we must think of now. The Moors can provide for us yet again, if we plan carefully. If they remain within reach, we will make the most of it.” She stared hard at Wembo. “You will lead us—all of us—to where you saw the Moors. We will track them.”
“When? Tonight?” Achona was avid, grinning hectically.
“Tonight, tomorrow, what difference so long as we all hunt?” Chimenae said with feigned indifference.
“Including you?” Wembo was caught off-guard by this announcement. “You never hunt with us.”
“You are young among us,” said Chimenae, her tone slightly less stringent. “While we were few, I led every hunt. Ask your elders if you doubt this. They will tell you that I hunted every night. When the villagers began to offer two-legged goats, then I ceased my hunting, so that you could have more.”
“Was that the reason?” Achona kept Wembo from speaking. “Or did you grow afraid?”
Chimenae drew back as if struck. “I am not afraid,” she stated, her mouth ugly. “Look what I have made of you. How can you say I am afraid?”
“I can and I do,” Achona cried, taking hold of Aulutiz’s hand.
This was too much for Aulutiz, who pulled himself free of Achona’s grip and went to his mother’s side. “You must not say such things. Have you no gratitude?”
Aware that she was suddenly in trouble, Achona did her best to brazen it out. “If any other of us refused to hunt, what would we think? Why is it any different for her?”
“Because she is the First,” said Edic, settling the matter. “We are all beholden to her for our lives. Let none of you forget that.” He stared at Achona. “You are troublesome.”
“No more.” Chimenae’s voice was not loud but it carried her full authority.
There was a long silence this time, during which Aulutiz put more distance between him and Achona. The rest of the tribe was growing restless, and a few were looking angry. At last Chimenae lifted her arms. “Tonight you hunt as you will. Tomorrow night, if the Moors may be found, we hunt them. If they leave the region, well and good. If they do not, they are ours.” She remained in her position of dismissal as the group broke up and scattered into the night. San-Ragoz withdrew a short distance so that he could observe what Chimenae would do when all her vampires were gone. Only Aulutiz lingered, looking as awkwardly young as his features would suggest he was. “What is it?” his mother asked of him as she made her way toward the stone house. “The Moor is waiting.”